Five Things That Never Happened
by Lupin
Summary: Timeline deviation AUs, as the title suggests. Part of a series written for the 20 AUs ljcomm.
1. and if we did

_Written for the 20 AUs community on livejournal. Five timeline-deviation AUs; brief explanations of these, as well as the rest of the twenty ficlets, can be found on my website. Spoilers for much of the second manga series._

**And if we did**  
_subtitled: three agreements that were never made_

i.

"Think," Baldr says, "of the possibilities. Of what our futures can become. We can do it, you know, you and me."

"And if we did?" The question is more detached than disinterested, and Baldr smiles, says: "We'll see when we get there, won't we."

"Yes," Loki says, finally turning to face Baldr. "I suppose we will." His gaze is fixed on somewhere very far away, before it refocuses, and meets Baldr's, and recognises the bright gleam of ambition; Loki laughs, unsurprised, and Baldr echoes it after a second's pause. They exchange smiles, carefully, in a mutual recognition of distrust.

ii.

When Baldr speaks, the shadows shrink back in Odin's hall. Baldr's voice is bright, and his words clear, and Odin listens and wonders and lets suspicion spread its poison through him.

When Baldr is done with speaking he waits, smiling like summer, and the light in Odin's hall is sharp with promise. And finally Odin beckons Baldr to him, and whispers something into his son's ear; and Baldr begins, very softly, to laugh.

iii.

The formality of this meeting is awkward for a friendship that runs blood-deep. Loki waits at the foot of Odin's throne, and listens to how the silence is doing nothing to dispel the unease in the air.

"My son," Odin says finally, "is worrying me."

There is caution in Loki's bright eyes, as he looks up. "And what would you have me do, Odin? I barely know Baldr."

"But you've seen the change in him, surely. There is bitterness in him that I never thought he could know, and one hears things; one sees things that one would rather not believe, yet cannot doubt. I worry for what he can and might do --"

"I'm not sure I understand," Loki says, because he suspects that he does and does not believe it; this is Odin without his usual measured logic.

"I have reason to believe Baldr is dangerous. I have _reasons_ for this, Loki --" and Odin looks at Loki, and Loki smiles back out of reflex, unconvinced "-- and it's him or you, him or myself; and there are ways one can deal with danger, but the cleanest way --"

"I know the cleanest way," Loki says, his voice cold, incredulous. "And if we did -- ?"

"And if _you_ did, Loki," Odin says, with the gentle emphasis of the hangman straightening the noose.

A pause. Then a smile flashes across Loki's face, sharp and unpleasant like sunlight on a stained blade, and for a moment Odin wonders if he is trusting the weaker of his ties. But the moment passes, and Loki is himself again: the blue of his eyes muted as he nods, very slowly, still holding Odin's gaze.


	2. the length of future memories

**The length of future memories**  
_because Narugami didn't have to believe in Loki_

On Midgard, Yamino's dreams are warmer. Before, the sun was a distant promise of light, filtered through cold waters -- now it burns overhead, bright and clear as recognition. Some nights the sky, too, burns in his dreams, and in the morning Yamino is left with confused impressions of noise and pain and a fiery heat that he has never known.

Other nights there is blood, but that too is warm, and not all of it is his own.

"Loki-sama thinks," Yamino starts, voice careful -- stops, tries again. "Loki-sama isn't sure if Narugami-san will insist on following the orders that Odin-sama has given him."

'Narugami-san' looks a bit taken aback by the politeness, but it doesn't stop him from stepping forward, bokutou off his shoulder and readied in one hand. "And what if I do?"

"Then Loki-sama does not wish to see you."

Narugami has to give Yamino credit for not backing down, but the show of bravado does nothing to dissuade him. He steps forward, ready to push past whatever ineffectual protest Yamino may make -- and finds Yamino's hand on his shoulder, surprisingly firm. The scent of lavender clings to Yamino's skin, incongruous; Narugami wonders absently if it's soap or detergent. He's certain it can't be from actual flowers.

"Loki-sama," Yamino says, and his voice is still careful, still entirely too calm, "does not wish to see you."

Heimdall shows up some days later, and Narugami is glad; he hasn't been making much progress, but Heimdall has his ways, and Narugami is sure they'll be able to carry out Odin's orders if they work together. And if nothing else, Heimdall is more experienced with foresight and omens. Surely, Narugami thinks, the white god will be able to explain the fragments that Narugami recalls from his dreams on Midgard: a calm gaze that is at once familiar and thoroughly unrecognisable, the shimmer of sunlight over deep green scales, death under a burning sky.


	3. stages of the sun

**Stages of the sun**  
_because one wonders what Loki could have been, if it had worked out_

It is not just that Loki returns on the evening after his mysterious disappearance; he does so in his original form. Or at least in something close to his original form -- his step retains its confidence but has grown measured, deliberate; his smile, sharp as ever, has a different edge.

Yamino notices and does not say anything besides a careful "Welcome home." Loki's smile stays fierce and cruel, not softening like it usually does, and Yamino is suddenly glad that Fenrir is sleeping somewhere upstairs rather than being here to welcome their father home. The light in Loki's eyes is brighter than usual, but cold and far from fire.

"We were-- worried about you..." 

"At least I'm back," Loki says. His tone is wry, not flippant, and Yamino is almost comforted. But then Loki goes on, and his voice - like his pace and his eyes and his smile - is no longer entirely his. "I know now, you see. Where I came from, and where I must go." He tilts his head lightly to the side, looking directly at Yamino. The gesture should have been familiar and reassuring. It fails to be either. "It begins now, Midgardsormr."

"Loki-sama?"

For a moment Yamino thinks he sees confusion in Loki's eyes, but it fades as easily as smoke. Perhaps it was a trick of the evening light. Loki's voice is casual as he says, "It was always a matter of time, Yamino-kun."

There is something distant about Loki, unless there is not and Yamino is merely imagining things. Loki steps past him, ignoring Ecchan's puzzled greeting, and despite himself, Yamino's thoughts turn to the memory of cold waters and a pale sun. ( He cannot help his habit of doing so; there is little else in his life worth recalling. ) He is hurrying after Loki before he realises it, reaching out -- Loki turns before Yamino can catch his sleeve, and the questioning detachment in his gaze is enough to make Yamino freeze, fingers outstretched in mid-air.

"I just-- Loki-sama --"

"I'll explain at dinner," Loki says, not unkindly. He takes Yamino's hand in a vague attempt at reassurance, his fingers strangely cold against Yamino's skin.


	4. the taste of this

**The taste of this**  
_because the lack of resolution on this issue bothered me, in the manga_

Spica wonders what limits there are on the senses of the dead. When she sets down her glass she is still unsure if she has tasted her drink or is merely recalling what it should taste like, though the bitterness seems strong and real enough on her tongue. If she were Utgard Loki, it would remind her of more abstract things, anger or loss or regret -- but she is not, and the wine merely tastes like wine.

Beside her, Utgard Loki pours himself another glass. The dead cannot stay outside Niflheim for long, Spica knows ( or thinks she does ) -- yet here they are in Utgard, with Hel's consent. Perhaps her daughter had granted more than they realised, in sparing Utgard Loki's soul. Or perhaps this castle is not in Utgard, and the person beside her is not Utgard Loki, and this is all illusion. She turns to look at him. He drains his glass, then meets her eyes.

If Utgard Loki is an illusion then she must be one too, Spica decides, for the touch of his hand is real enough against hers, and no colder than she expected. He moves slowly, giving her enough time to pull away, and Spica recognises her own stillness as a form of resignation. Utgard Loki tastes only of the wine they have been drinking. Spica does not know if she should expect anything else: she has no memory of this to fall back on.


	5. the denial of convention

**The denial of convention**  
_because Loki should have been able to do it_

Baldr is at Loki's mercy, yes, but this is no cause for worry. He knows how things will go. Loki already has Heimdall's blood on his hands, spilt at Baldr's request and not Odin's. All one needs to do is remind Loki of this, in Heimdall's voice, and Loki will be unable to do anything but listen, and regret, and offer the unwitting benevolence of inaction. It is convention, after all: in the crucial moment, the one with the upper hand always falters. Loki's capacity for guilt is slight, but still enough for him to show some measure of mercy. That brief lapse is all that Baldr needs. He thinks he has found it now, for Loki is no longer looking directly at him; in that unfocused gaze Baldr sees only undisguised sadness, which is the same as weakness. His smile widens as he readies himself to strike the staff from Loki's hand.

But Baldr never manages to do so, for when Loki moves it is fast and sudden and with none of his earlier reluctance -- his fingers curl, jerk away, the eye disintegrating into dust as it is torn free, and Baldr's shocked cry turns swiftly into a scream of pain.

Heimdall's blood has drawn a thin line across Loki's cheek. Loki does not wipe it away until he is sure that the ragged sound of breathing is Heimdall's and Heimdall's alone.


End file.
